


The Weakness In Me

by slythatheart



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slythatheart/pseuds/slythatheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are long, dark tresses spread in waves in front of her, and Sara knows they’re just as soft and silky as they look. She nuzzles forward just enough to bury her nose into some of the wayward curls, the ones that have made their way onto her pillow. They smell of vanilla and something floral, and it makes her smile grow. </p><p>It’s still early. She has to leave soon, but not quite yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weakness In Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "The Weakness In Me" by Joan Armatrading. 
> 
> Written for Flarrow Femslash Week 2015 (Day #4 - Favorite Crossover Ship AND/OR Magic/Fantasy AU).

Sara buries her head deeper into the pillow, trying to deny how awake she is, trying to fall back into her slumber and ignore the fact that morning has come.

It only lasts a moment, that’s all it _ever_ lasts anymore.

Once upon a time she could sleep like the dead, could laze about in a doze until well into the afternoon, but that time has long passed; overshadowed by years of fighting for her life and sleeping with one eye open.

She sighs, expelling her nostalgia along with her breath, and blinks her eyes open. The sunlight is filtered through the curtains, and her eyes adjust quickly. She can’t fight the smile that tugs on her lips at the sight of the woman beside her, the quilt tossed aside and the sheet low across her bare hips in deference to the warmth of the previous night.

There are long, dark tresses spread in waves in front of her, and Sara knows they’re just as soft and silky as they look. She nuzzles forward just enough to bury her nose into some of the wayward curls, the ones that have made their way onto her pillow. They smell of vanilla and something floral, and it makes her smile grow.

It’s still early. She has to leave soon, but not quite yet.

Gently, so as not to wake the sleeping beauty beside her, Sara lets her hand trace the smooth skin of her lover’s back, all perfect lines on a deceptively slender frame. Her fingers linger on the scars they find; fewer and farther apart than Sara’s, but each one still speaks volumes.

Despite her adoration of the vision in front of her, Sara can’t help but remember darker curls, a more olive complexion and skin nearly as flawed as her own. The guilt hits her as it always does; heavy on her heart and tight around her lungs.

When Lisa’s breath changes and she rolls over to face Sara there’s a moment, a flicker, where Lisa’s face is open and bright, awake enough to know where she is, who she’s with, but still too caught in her sleep to remember where they inevitably go from here. It’s familiar by now, almost expected, but it still hurts every time that moment fades and Lisa schools her expression.

“Are you going already?” Lisa asks. Her face is blank and her tone is even, but Sara knows it hurts her. It hurts them both.

“Soon.”

“You could stay a little longer.”

“I can’t be late.” Sara sits up, trying to ignore the way Lisa looks when she does the same, the way her curls spill over her shoulder and around her left breast like a picture of beauty and temptation.

“You travel through time,” Lisa tells her, voice sharper but face still at perfect ease. “Being late won’t mean a thing.”

It’s an old argument, and though they both know how it ends, they replay it every single time.

“You wouldn’t say that if it meant Cold finding out.” It slips out just like it always does, the words a little different but the meaning the same. And every time, Sara regrets it immediately, knowing what comes next.

“You’re the one who cares if people know.”

It’s true. Lisa has never cared what others thought, save for her brother, but they both know that Cold will do anything to keep Lisa happy, second only to keeping her safe.

Lisa doesn’t believe Cold will see Sara as a threat, but Sara isn’t so sure. She knows breaking Lisa’s heart would be just as bad in Cold’s eyes as any physical harm.

But Sara can hold her own against Cold. She doesn’t care if people know, not in the strictest sense. She only cares about the other heart she could break if whatever it is she keeps falling back into with Lisa becomes public.

“I can’t be late,” she repeats. She throws the sheets off and pulls clothes from her drawers. Even though she’s the one to leave, it’s her home. It’s always her home because Lisa always comes to her and Sara is always too weak to turn her away.

“I’ll come by when you get back,” Lisa says, voice challenging. She knows what’s coming.

“Don’t. We can’t keep...just don’t.”

Sara waits for the icy mask to slip over Lisa’s face, for her tone to go hard as she agrees without meaning it, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, Lisa slips out of the bed and closes the space between them. This is new.

Sara has been through so much she’s rarely scared anymore, but this terrifies her.

“You always say that,” Lisa tells her, “and you never mean it.”

“I _always_ mean it.”

“Never for long.”

And what can Sara say to that? Lisa isn’t wrong. Sara is weak, despite all her strength, and though she can keep herself from approaching Lisa, she can never say no when Lisa comes to her. “I…”

“You’re allowed to be in love with me, you know.”

Sara’s heart skips a beat and for a moment it feels as though the blood in her veins has turned to ice. “What makes you think—”

“Just because you never say it, doesn’t stop it from being true.” Lisa’s hand slides up the valley between Sara’s breasts, curls around her neck and squeezes the base of her skull gently. “You’re not with her anymore. It’s not a betrayal.”

She should have known, should have realized that Lisa can see right through her. Lisa is smart, observant, calculating. Sara has let her guard down.

“You’re wrong,” she whispers. She doesn’t know if she’s denying her feelings, or denying the idea that she’s not betraying Nyssa by being with someone else when they can’t be together. She only knows the way her heart is trying to pound its way out of her chest and the way her stomach is roiling violently.

“I love you,” Lisa says. It’s not romantic, not soft, not warm. It’s sharp and honest and demanding.

Sara pulls back, desperate to breathe steadily through the way her insides are trying to tear themselves apart. Her feelings for Lisa are strong; there’s a sense of elation and need — and yes, _love_ — there at her words, but Sara still loves Nyssa, will _always_ love Nyssa.

How can she possibly choose one of her loves, and let the other fall into heartbreak? How can she pick one and leave the other feeling as though they mean less?

She can’t. She can only deny them both and hope they each find happiness somewhere else with time.

“I have to go.”

“I know.”

Lisa doesn’t speak again. She only sits on the bed and watches while Sara dresses, shoulders a little too tense to call her pose relaxed. It’s not until Sara is ready and stepping out of her apartment that Lisa’s voice carries across the room.

“I’ll come by when you get back.”

Sara doesn’t answer, can’t be sure whether the words that come out will be _please don’t_ or simply _please_. She closes the door behind her and hurries away. It’s not until she’s in the stairwell, completely alone and away from prying ears that she can quietly admit, “I love you, too.”


End file.
